


Harbor

by hyacinthsky



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, NO CAPES, Road Trips, Some Humor, bart is the merperson btw, if you're here for timkon then you will have to be a little patient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthsky/pseuds/hyacinthsky
Summary: Life on the Kent farm is slow, but that's how Conner likes it. So it's just his luck when a wild mermaid gets dumped in his lap, entangling him in a cross-country whirlwind of trouble.It would probably be easier if the mermaid wasn't so damn cute.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen/Tim Drake, Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Harbor

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for way too long oops.
> 
> Chapter content warnings at the end

The thing about Kansas summers was that they got better with age.

When Conner had first moved to Smallville, he had found the slow country life unbearable. His early childhood had been a hectic mishmash of nannies and caregivers – with varying levels of qualification – but it had been _exciting._ He had traveled the world, going wherever Lex’s next big project had led. The best part was that while the grown-ups talked business, Conner was free to mingle with the locals, ducking his bodyguards to scope out arcades or bum around at malls.

But then, well. Scandal. Then prison. Then a couple of more scandals, just for good measure.

And before he knew it, Conner was unpacking boxes in his grandparent’s house. His newly-discovered, country-bumpkin grandparents. At that point in his life, Conner couldn’t have imagined a worse fate.

But that was the thing about Kansas. It grew on you. Slowly. After a few attempts at hopping on a Greyhound.

Nowadays, Conner was pretty content to just… exist. Ma said he was just taking life slow (politely). Pa said he was going nowhere fast (a little less politely). They were both probably right, but honestly, Conner didn’t see the problem. So what if he hadn’t immediately run off to college after graduating? There was nothing wrong with taking a gap year to save up. It wasn’t like Ma and Pa had a second college fund in case a secret affair baby was dumped on their laps, and Clark –

Well. Clark clearly had other things to worry about.

So that was how they got to what Conner was mentally referring to as the Summer of Wasted Youth, appropriately capitalized. It consisted mostly of the occasional odd job around town, and… a lot of lying around. Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

It was a hot day, even for late July. Humidity was making Conner’s already curly hair frizz and stick to his forehead with sweat. He had stripped down to shorts and a t-shirt early in the day, and then had further forgone the shirt in favor of an old pair of sunglasses he had found behind his bed. It still wasn’t a relief from the oppressive heat; the air conditioning had busted again, and the only thing Conner could do was bonelessly laze around the front porch while he waited for Pa to get back from town with the replacement parts.

Huge thunderheads brewed in the distance, disrupting the otherwise pristine country sky. Conner watched them churn, their dark underbellies occasionally illuminated by wild cracks of lightning. This was going to be a big one.

Conner was pulled from his thoughts by the crunch of gravel – a van had pulled off the highway in front of the house and was coming up their drive. He began to sit up as he watched it move slowly over the uneven ground, eventually coming to a stop where Pa’s truck usually parked.

The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a squat man in a loud button-up shirt. His large forehead was shiny with sweat, which he mopped at with a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Hey kid,” the man called out, though he didn’t move towards Conner. “This the Kent farm?”

“Yup.” Conner replied, eyeing the man. “If you’re here to sell something, I don’t think we need it.”

He laughed at that, a loud, nervous sound that cut off suddenly, as if a hand had been slapped over his mouth. “I saw your sign – you sell hay, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” The Kents had always grown alfalfa, but after construction on the highway had finished, they had started selling individual square bales to travelers. Pa had been skeptical about the idea, but after a bit of wheedling, he had finally acquiesced. A good thing, too – it had turned out surprisingly profitable. “How many you need?”

The man licked his lips, and his brow was furrowed with thought. “Two? Yeah, two sounds good.”

Conner got to his feet, stretching his back out with a loud _pop!_ He winced – maybe he really did need to stop lying around so much.

“Want me to load ‘em in your van for you?” He offered. They weren’t _too_ heavy, but this guy looked like he was about to keel over. Maybe his AC had busted too.

To his surprise, the man shook his head vigorously. “No, just – just put them on the ground, I can do it myself.”

Conner just shrugged, deftly hopping over the porch fence and heading towards the barn. It wasn’t far by any definition, but as Conner walked, he couldn’t stop thinking about the guy. There wasn’t anything technically strange about the situation – plenty of people had stopped by to get hay without actually having a horse or cow in the back – but something about his demeanor just rubbed Conner the wrong way. Maybe it was that this guy’s nervous energy was making him nervous too, but Conner couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Conner pushed the barn door open, letting the light of the summer sun spill into the dark space. Stepping in, he rubbed Bessie’s head gently, and she mooed at him in response.

When Conner had first moved in, there had been other animals in the barn – a few cows, and even a beautiful horse that had thrilled Conner (though he never would’ve admitted it at the time). But things had changed. And now, only Bessie was left.

“What do you think, girl?” He murmured. “Figure this guy is on the level?”

She just looked at him with her soulful black eyes, nudging her nose against his hand. Her breath was warm, and Conner smiled.

“I’ll get you some treats later,” he promised, giving her one last pet before heading to the back of the nearly-empty barn. Several piles of hay bales were stacked neatly in the corner, tied together with thin red string. Sliding his swiss army knife out of his back pocket, Conner swiftly cut the string and grabbed two bales.

He headed out, beginning the walk back to his house. A wind had picked up, and though it did little to cool the air down, it still caused a shiver to run down Conner’s spine.

As he rounded the corner to the front of the house, he was surprised to see that the man was gone, though his van remained parked in their driveway. He set the bales down, frowning and glancing back. Through the front window, he could see Ma leading the man through their living room in the direction of the kitchen – probably to serve him lemonade and cookies. Conner laughed a little, shaking his head. Good ol’ rustic hospitality. It was one aspect of living in Smallville that he might never get used to.

He watched them disappear into the kitchen. He was tempted to join, but…

The pit in his stomach still hadn’t left. His gaze fell back down to the hay, and he gnawed on his lip. It… didn’t hurt to check the van, right? Maybe he’d load up the bales despite the guy’s insistence, say that he figured he could use a break after all that driving. The worst that could happen was he got a little pissed.

He grabbed the hay, walking around to the back of the van. To his surprise, the key was actually hanging out of the back-door lock – the guy must’ve been unlocking the door when Ma had come to greet him. The ring itself had dozens of smaller keys on it, and a tacky hula dancer keychain that read _Aloha!_ in an ugly font.

Conner swallowed, setting down the bales. He tried to assure himself that this was a completely normal situation and that there was no need to be this nervous – after all, he reasoned, if this guy was a serial killer or drug smuggler, why the hell would he need _hay?_ And why would he be so careless as to leave the keys in his van lock? Assuaged, Conner turned the key and swung open the back doors.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Conner had spent the last four years of his life shoveling cow shit – animal waste, while never pleasant, had become a norm. This was different. The cloying stench of manure was present, but underneath it was the sickly-sweet smell of illness – of rot.

Conner turned his face away, gagging hard enough that it made his throat ache. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths through his mouth as he tried to tamp down his reaction.

It took a few moments to gather himself, but he eventually managed to look back at the van. The interior was dark – very dark. Conner pushed the sunglasses off of his face and onto his head, peering inside for a better look.

It was full of cages. They were pressed up against each other, and many seemed too small to house the animals that were stuffed in them. At the sound of the door opening, some of the animals had looked at him – a giant tortoise stared with dark, beady eyes, and a tiger cub mewled pathetically, pawing at the grimy metal bars. But most of the animals didn’t react at all.

One of the cages had fallen over, the brightly-colored bird inside lying limply on the ground. Without thinking, Conner clambered into the van. The smell was worse here, and because there was no proper ventilation, the interior was like an oven. Conner gritted his teeth, kneeling besides the fallen bird.

Up close, he could see that the bird’s chest still moved with breaths. Sighing in relief, Conner slowly righted the cage, but the bird didn’t react – it seemed too sick to move.

Poacher. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this guy was a poacher. Apparently one that didn’t care if his cargo lived or died. The apprehension from before was gone, replaced with a blinding anger. If this guy, this sleazeball, thought he could get away with treating animals like this –

And then Conner spotted something that made his blood run cold.

There weren’t any cages in the back right corner. Bizarrely, there was just a kiddie pool. Half-full. And lying in the center of it was a human.

It was dark but… it didn’t look like they were moving at all. Not even breathing. 

Conner felt dizzy. He wanted to believe this was a nightmare, but every sensation, every feeling, was far too real.

Almost unconsciously, he started creeping forward. He had to be sure. He had to make sure that what he was seeing was actually – was what he thought it was.

As he got closer, he could see a few more details, but not many. They were definitely human. They were lying face-down in the stagnant water, longish hair floating on its surface. Their arms were tied behind their back with thick, scratchy-looking rope. Conner couldn’t really see their legs in the darkness, but by the way they seemed pressed together, they were probably tied as well.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

And then they moved.

Conner jerked back in surprise, his head slamming painfully into the cage behind him. Ears ringing, he stared as the person began to slowly turn over to face him.

The first thing that Conner noticed was their eyes. They seemed impossibly huge in the darkness – wide and unblinking. Conner felt transfixed by their gaze. They didn’t look frightened, or angry. More… curious.

And then Conner noticed the makeshift cloth gag in their mouth. It was completely soaked from being submerged in the water, and Conner swore under his breath. It must be incredibly difficult to breathe through that.

He moved forward, reaching around the person’s head to start tugging at the knot. As he clumsily fumbled with the fabric, he murmured “It’s okay, I’m gonna get you out of this.”

If the person understood him, they didn’t give any indication. Conner figured they might be an international trafficking victim – it wouldn’t be all that surprising, given the native habitat of some of the animals.

The knot was proving more difficult than Conner had originally anticipated. The wetness of the cloth made it hard to get a solid grip, and the knot itself was a jumbled, amateurish mess of overlapping ties. Cursing under his breath, he racked his brain for something he could use to pry open the knot. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the van, but Ma wouldn’t keep the guy occupied forever. Conner didn’t have time to run and get something from the house.

It took him a moment too long to realize that he didn’t have to untie the knot, he could just cut the cloth – and that he still had his swiss army knife. He shook his head. Panic was making him stupid.

He pulled the knife out of his back pocket, flicking it open with a _click._ At the sound, the person flinched violently, water sloshing around them.

“Oh shit,” Conner gasped, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.” He was far more tentative as he reached out the second time, but the person didn’t move again.

He cut through the cloth cleanly, easing the gag out of their mouth. As soon as he did, they worked their jaw, spitting out what looked like a balled-up sock. They groaned a little, the first sound that Conner had heard them make. They’d probably been gagged for an ungodly amount of time – Conner couldn’t imagine how sore their jaw must be.

“Lemme get your hands,” he said, leaning over them and starting to cut through the rope. It was much, much thicker than the cloth gag, and Conner was struggling to even make a dent with his tiny knife. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled. It was hard to get leverage without putting pressure on their wrists – he really didn’t want to hurt them further, but he also needed to be fast since the guy could come back any second now.

As soon as he had the thought, he heard the screen door open.

“Shit!” Conner swore, glancing at his progress. He had maybe gotten halfway through the rope – there was no time to cut the rest of the way.

He stood quickly, glancing down at the person. Their expression had shifted from curiosity to alarm, and their already huge eyes had grown wider. “I’m not gonna let him take you,” he assured, hoping that at least some of his meaning was conveyed. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

He began to back away, and when they didn’t move or cry out, turned towards the exit. He needed to get out before the guy got to the doors – the last thing Conner wanted was to get locked in.

He jumped down from the van just as the guy rounded the corner, and as soon as he saw Conner, his eyebrows shot up almost comically fast.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelped, “Put the knife down, kid!”

Conner blinked – he had completely forgotten he was still holding his knife. Conner personally didn’t think it was that intimidating – the blade was maybe an inch long – but he brandished it anyway, shouting “Back the hell up!”

The guy complied, arms shooting in the air as though Conner had a gun instead of a dinky pocketknife. As he moved, he stumbled over his own feet, and fell onto the gravel driveway with a pained groan.

Conner could hear the sound of water sloshing around violently behind him – the person in the van must’ve taken notice of the commotion.

“Don’t hurt me,” the man stammered, but Conner realized he wasn’t looking at him; instead, he was staring at the van, a blatantly fearful expression on his face.

“I – I don’t want to, okay? So just stay right there.” Conner glanced back at the house, but he couldn’t see Ma inside. She was probably still in the kitchen, cleaning up – Conner really hoped she finished quickly and noticed what was going on, since there was no way that he was leaving the guy alone to call the police.

His gaze fell back down to the man, who was obediently still on the ground. His chest fluttered rapidly with panicked breaths. He really did make a pathetic sight. Conner almost felt sorry for him – almost.

“What are you doing with those animals?” he snapped, glaring down at the man.

The guy squirmed. “I’m – I’m just the driver, kid! I don’t know where they’re going, not really.”

“Make an educated guess.”

“I… I think they’re going a couple of different places. Private zoos, probably. I dunno, I was just told to drop ‘em off at a warehouse in Coast City, and that someone else would take care of the rest.”

“And what about that person you have tied up back there, huh? They going to a zoo?”

The man’s eyes widened, and he glanced back at the van. Conner realized that the sounds of splashing water had stopped, but he could hear something being dragged across the ground. “That thing is _not_ a person,” the man stammered, “Oh, _god!_ You didn’t let it out, did you?”

Before Conner could reply, there was a loud thump – the guy let out a terrified shriek, scrambling backwards on his hands. Conner whipped his head around, gasping as he finally got a look at the person he had helped free.

They – he – was lying on the ground right underneath the open van doors, slowly pushing himself up on his forearms. He had pale skin, and his face and shoulders were dusted with freckles. Conner could see that he was actually covered in them, the small marks patterning his sides and even his back.

His long, brown hair was thick and wild, strands of it draped over his face. Even though they were partially obscured, Conner was drawn to his eyes – they glowed an unnatural, electric yellow in the afternoon sun.

But what was most shocking were his legs – or rather, his lack thereof. Where they should’ve been was instead a set of thick, bright red tentacles. Two of them were much longer than the others, trailing behind him. One of them, Conner realized, was actually still in the van.

A mermaid. He was a mermaid.

He had pushed himself fully onto his hands by this point, and he shook his head a little to get some of the hair out of his face. He glanced up at Conner, and he felt his heart stutter as their eyes met.

He was beautiful.

And then the mermaid looked back down, staring directly at the man behind Conner. The warm flush of attraction turned ice cold in Conner’s veins as the mermaid snarled – a low, dangerous sound like coming thunder – and revealed a row of razor-sharp teeth.

Faster than Conner could blink, the mermaid shot forward, using his arms to pull himself along the gravel driveway. He was unbelievably quick – Conner stumbled back in surprise as he passed him, nearly losing his balance.

The guy also seemed taken aback, and froze for a second before trying to scramble to his feet. That was apparently a second too long, because quick as a flash, the mermaid was on him, pulling him back down into the dirt. They tumbled for a moment, before Conner heard a sickening squelch, and then the air was pierced with the sound of screams.

Conner rushed towards the pair, gasping as he got a better angle. The mermaid had sunk his teeth deep into the guy’s shoulder, his bright shirt already stained with his rapidly-pooling blood. The guy was attempting to push the mermaid off of him, but the mermaid had retaliated in kind, scratching at him with dark, wicked-looking claws that left deep gashes in the guy’s forearms.

Without thinking, Conner dropped his knife, wrapping his arms around the mermaid’s torso. His skin was cold and slippery to the touch – getting a grip was near impossible, but Conner managed to hold on. He tried to pull the mermaid off, but he was incredibly strong, and the movement only made the guy whimper in pain.

This was stupid – Conner _knew_ he was being stupid. But he couldn’t just sit back and watch someone die, no matter who it was.

“Don’t kill him!” he begged, “Please, just let him go!”

The mermaid thrashed in his arms, letting out another terrifying growl. Conner just held on tighter.

After a moment of futile struggle, the mermaid shifted his head to peer back at Conner. His yellow eyes were piercing – full of volatile, untamed fury. He really was a wild thing.

Conner swallowed. “Please,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Conner thought that the mermaid was about to lash out at him instead. But then he went limp in Conner’s arms, relaxing his jaw.

The guy scrambled out from beneath them, panting loudly as he rushed towards the van. Conner expected the mermaid to chase after him again, but he stayed pliant. He was still looking at Conner, as if waiting to see what he would do.

The sound of a car door slamming startled Conner out of his thoughts. He looked up just in time to see the van rapidly peeling out of their driveway, the bottom scraping noisily against the forgotten hay bales.

“Fuck!” Conner shouted, letting the mermaid down and stumbling to his feet. Too little, too late – the man had managed to back onto the highway, and after a moment of shifting gears, he tore off.

Conner watched the van shoot past vibrant green fields until it was nothing more than a white speck on the horizon. His face screwed up, unshed tears burning hot.

Fuck. He had messed this one up big time.

When he turned back to the house, he saw the mermaid had sat up, still looking at him almost expectantly.

_Fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter content warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, animal abuse, vague allusions to Conner's bad childhood, Conner's potty mouth


End file.
